


plans

by dmdiane



Series: Hopes and dreams [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Making Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21575005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dmdiane/pseuds/dmdiane
Summary: “I love this.” Love you, he wants to say. Somehow in English, when not in the throes, that seems out of reach. “This thing we have. I just wondered…” What does he wonder? Under Mycroft’s steady gray gaze his brain melts a little.~ a month later, Greg wonders
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Hopes and dreams [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/979269
Comments: 8
Kudos: 88





	plans

Apparently, they are not going to date. Greg glances over the kitchen island at Mycroft improbably curled on his couch with a book. The sight is arresting. He leans back on the counter where the kettle begins to grumble and takes in this scene of domesticity beyond his wildest most daring dreams. Although he’s got a long list of potential dates in mind, planning for asking the man out, they are useless now. Four weeks into this, whatever this is, they have settled into a rhythm whereby they work, text, convene at one or the other of their houses and share a meal, tea, books, and telly. Then whoever is not home goes home. There are greeting kisses and parting kisses, very different, all delicious. There are Saturday nights with Rosie at Mycroft’s. There was a Sunday afternoon trip to the zoo, during which Greg and Rosie had a discussion about penguins, Mycroft, and suits. Mycroft refers to them as Gregory and Rosamund respectively when he replies. Greg would still like to know what they are doing. 

Mycroft looks up, his brows rise.

Greg grins, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. You’re gorgeous.”

Mycroft narrows his eyes at the deferral. It’s a good thing that Greg has never been one to try to disguise his feelings. Mycroft is better at spotting them than he is. More than once, Myc has commented on a reaction before Greg knew he was having it. Now, his grin widens. 

“I was actually thinking that.” He insists.

Brows crowd together.

“And,” he continues. “Appreciating how lovely and easy our relationship has been so far.”

Myc puts the book on the coffee table and rises to his feet, coming over in a smooth series of movements. He pauses. “Yes.” 

Greg leans in and up into a kiss that tastes of contentment, slightly sour from the earlier glass of wine. He hums his pleasure. The kiss ends with a nip to his bottom lip that makes him chuckle.

Mycroft looks down at him, smiling with serious eyes. “Are you expecting trouble?”

“No. I…” Greg licks his lips, catching the last remnant of taste. “Just…” Serious eyes, serious question. “Like this. Being with you is different. Fits. I’m surprised is all.”

Mycroft tilts his head.

Greg adds, “I’m not the easiest to get along with.”

“Oh, but you are,” Mycroft says this like a correction. 

“Ummm…” Greg’s next comment submerges into a kiss. The gentle greeting kiss spools out from touching lips to hands stroking faces then the press of Myc’s body to his. No matter the surprises of this whatever it is, Greg always thought the sex would be magnificent. It is. He reaches back and thumbs off the kettle. 

They are both vocal during lovemaking. Hums grow to moans and groans merge into uttered exclamations. There’s no need for words, but words there are, they speak to each other in French, a language they are both fluent in, offering praise and endearment., encouragement and pleasure. It is the language of his childhood and Greg accepts them as gifts of intimacy. He gives them from his heart. 

Wrapped in the afterglow of intense satisfaction, Greg grips the man under him. “Mon dieu, mon amour,” on a sigh. 

“Oui, mon coeur.” Mycroft’s hands slide in the slip of sweat on Greg’s shoulders, sliding down his arms, finally coming to rest on his hips. “You…” The first word in English between them in a long while. 

Greg huffs against Mycroft’s neck. “Not me. Christ, you’ve made a mess of us.” He lifts on his arms and gazes down their bellies. 

“I had help.” Mycroft points out, mouth twitching. 

“Happy to pitch in.” Greg ignores the sticky mess of sweat and spunk and resettles with his had on Mycroft’s chest. They’ve made love on the couch again, which is awesome and impulsive right up until there is nowhere to lie beside one another. Not that he minds lying on Mycroft. “Hey.”

“Mmmm?”

“Are we going to date?”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Mycroft hasn’t moved, still stretched in repose, one hand on Greg’s back.

Greg lifts up to meet his gaze. “You know.”

A brow rises. “I do not know.”

“I love this.” Love you, he wants to say. Somehow in English, when not in the throes, that seems out of reach. “This thing we have. I just wondered…” What does he wonder? Under Mycroft’s steady gray gaze his brain melts a little. 

Mycroft’s expression clears. “You would like some clarity about the scope of our relationship.” He offers. 

Greg blinks. “I… Um…”

“We’ve known each other for years, Greg.”

“We have.” He appreciates Mycroft lifting a knee, tilting him towards the couch back and away from the precarious edge. “And now we are… this.”

Mycroft’s smile widens. “Not really what one tells one’s acquaintances.”

“No.” A spot of ice forms in Greg’s chest.

“You fear being my secret. Being unacknowledged.”

Greg hadn’t known that was what he was afraid of. Knowing doesn’t exactly calm his chilly racing heart. Needy. He swallows.

“I refer to you as my partner when I talk to my mother.” Mycroft goes on. “Sherlock refers to you as my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Greg watches Myc’s smile very carefully, he suspects he is being teased. But the relief is real enough. So, no dating. No problem. 


End file.
